Culture

A good Samaritan citizen decided to spit in Greasy Greg’s food one day. Unfortunately, the citizen was a carrier for a very rare, very contagious disease that, upon contact, causes painful sores and spastic projectile vomiting. This was the fate that befell poor Greg as the entire contents of his body rocketed out of him into a pussy, bloody puddle outside of Danger Dawgs, a local barbecue joint, scaring away a lot of potential customers. Greg died of rapid, sudden dehydration, and Danger Dawgs received a “B” from the health inspector.

But he’ll push too hard and the kumquats will rip his muscles apart through exertion. He’ll be sent to tiny intensive care and have to endure tiny physical rehabilitation. After 6 months of a frustrating healing process, he’ll feel a sense of accomplishment, but he’ll never be the same. Sure, he’ll try to lift again, but he’ll be too scared to try Kumquats again.

So much so that it won every single surfing competition from Hawaii to the Mediterranean. He was so good that every other so-called competetive surfer quit surfing and abandoned their dreams. They all became accountants, bankers, and insurance adjusters. All the beaches are now barren, except for one singular bird. The Surfin’ Bird.

Which caused him to go on a murderous rampage throughout the Sarasota Zoo Amphitheater. He crushed people with his mighty Hippo body; he bit a woman in half; one witness said Slop literally swallowed a kid whole. People forget that Hippos, even Slopabottomus, are vicious territorial creatures that will kill on a moment’s notice.

But within an hour of landing, he found a blackjack table at a hotel close to the airport and lost everything. More than everything, in fact – he owes $20,000 to a bookie who’s legal name is SnakePit. He has 24 hours to round up the rest of his money or else SnakePit is going to remove Franklin’s fingers. I’m no fortune teller, but I’m 85% sure Franklin’s going to lose his fingers.

I spend a lot of time thinking about Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory. You know, that movie that’s adapted from a book where a candy maker openly admits to (essentially) owning slaves & spends a whole day torturing children, only to give his entire enterprise to a child he knows nothing about, that probably doesn’t know shit about business, all because he “does a nice thing.” Yeah, that’n.

Anyway, I’ve always loved the “The Chocolate Factory.” It sounds like such a whimsical place – endless candy, new technologies, and you can eat the infrastructure. I wish life was more like the Chocolate Factory. Unfortunately it’s not. No, more often than not, it’s a Crap Factory. A crap factory is basically the same thing as The Chocolate Factory, only instead of delicious candy & fun times, everything’s made of shit. You eat shit, you smell shit, you drink shitty lifting drinks & bump into the walls which in turn smear shit all over your shitty body & shitty life. Welcome to the Crap Factory, kids! Get used to it.

Now, occasionally, The Chocolate Factory makes a brief but impactful appearance, and you get to taste amazing candy, and all is well in the world for a very short period of time. And you’re happy. For a time, you’re happy and you feel like nothing can ruin it. Then, of course, the Crap Factory opens back up and sends out the shit train, which makes a B-line straight for your f*cking face, heart, and soul. And you remember just how shitty your life is, but you smile a bit because you still have that delicious chocolate factory memory. Nothing can take that away as long as you live.

Because that’s life: a never ending stream of shit with occasional chocolate interruptions.

Like this one time when RT saw the new Star Wars movie, and Cuntball Stephen just showed up & sat next to him. It would’ve been okay if Stephen hadn’t peed himself and threw up aaaaaall over the row in front of them. RT tried to distance himself from the situation, but Cuntball grabbed onto him & started crying. A lot. Like that kind of crying where you can’t breathe & there’s a ton of snot streaming down your face. That’s what Cuntball was doing. As they were being escorted out of the theatre, Stephen also pooped himself. A river of shit flooded the theatre. A HAZMAT quarantine was established & 3 people drowned. Stephen pooped so much that 3 people drowned in poop.